


On Wings of Ink and Petals

by butterflyslinky, watcherofworlds



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, F/M, Pietro is alive, Sam Wilson Birthday Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 13:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20836586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyslinky/pseuds/butterflyslinky, https://archiveofourown.org/users/watcherofworlds/pseuds/watcherofworlds
Summary: Sam Wilson runs a flower shop and volunteers at the VA in his spare time, living out his days in peaceful solitude. Then comes the day Wanda and Pietro Maximoff open up a tattoo parlor next door to his flower shop. With her borderline goth manner of dress and her bold personality, Wanda shakes up Sam's quiet world, and as they get to know each other, Sam finds himself falling for her.





	1. Chapter 1

The loud rumble of a large vehicle’s engine distracted Sam from his work. He glanced out the glass fronted doors of his flower shop to see a moving van pull up to the curb in front of the storefront next door, the space behind which had been unoccupied the entire time Sam had been running this flower shop. Admittedly, that wasn’t that long- just the two years since he’d come home from his second tour- but it was still long enough for the arrival of a new neighbor in this quiet section of downtown to be an occasion of note.

As the day progressed, Sam found himself trying to catch glimpses of his new neighbors, trying to figure out what the establishment opening up next door to him was going to be. He got a brief view of a young woman with long dark hair dressed in red and black leather and a young man about her same age, his hair dyed a silver color that glinted in the late afternoon sun, but other than that all he saw was the movers, and nothing they were bringing in from the moving van gave him any clues as to what this business was going to be either. Eventually, he gave up trying to figure it out and refocused on his work. 

By evening, the moving van was gone. Sam noticed this only belatedly, as he was sending one of his last customers of the day out the door with well wishes and some last minute advice for the care and display of the elaborate flower arrangement they were carrying out with them. After that, he became too wrapped up in his nightly closing procedures to give it much thought. However, once he’d closed up for the night and had gotten a good start on the next day’s orders, he decided that it couldn’t hurt to sate his curiosity at last. Grabbing his belongings, he walked out the front door of his shop and locked it up behind him, intending to head home once he’d gotten the answers he’d been seeking all day. That done, he took a few steps to the right until he stood in front of the neighboring storefront, then stepped back off the sidewalk to study it properly.  _ Dizzy Spell Tattoo Studio  _ was emblazoned in enormous German gothic font above the front window, which had an unlit neon “Open” sign hanging in it. Sam cocked his head to one side, contemplating this information. Having never spent any time in or around tattoo parlors, he had no idea what being neighbors with one might turn out to be like, but one thing was for sure- it promised to be very interesting. 

“Can we help you?” a woman’s voice, heavily shaded with an accent Sam recognized as Sokovian, asked, pulling his focus away from his musings. He lowered his gaze from the tattoo parlor’s sign to its front door and saw the two people he’d glimpsed earlier in the day, obviously the proprietors of the establishment. The young woman was dressed in tight fitting black leather pants and a red corset top, layered with black knee high boots and a red leather dovetail coat, her long dark hair, which Sam could now see was a chestnut brown color, flowing loose down her shoulders. The young man beside her was dressed a bit more plainly, in a light grey compression shirt, jeans, and running shoes, but his silver-dyed hair still made him stand out.

“I’m Sam Wilson,” he said in answer to the young woman’s question. “I run the flower shop next door. I just wanted to welcome you guys to the neighborhood.”

“I’m Wanda Maximoff,” the young woman replied. “And this”- she gestured toward the young man beside her- “ is my brother Pietro.” Her accent lent her words a pleasing music, a melody that belonged to her and her alone.

“A family business, huh?” Sam asked. “What made you decide to be tattoo artists?”

“I decided that I wanted to be a tattoo artist,” Wanda explained, “and Pietro followed me. We’re twins, so for our whole lives we’ve always done everything together.” After that, they lapsed into the awkward silence that all too often came along with trying to carry on a conversation with people you just met or otherwise barely knew. 

“Well, I should get going,” Sam finally said. “But I’ll see you tomorrow?” Even as the words left his mouth, he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d phrased that as a question.

“I’m sure,” Wanda said with an amused smile. With that, Sam headed for his car, already wondering and eager to see what tomorrow would bring.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day found Sam contemplating a disorganized pile of cut flowers, leftovers from arrangements he’d made yesterday after closing and today before opening, wondering what to do with them. They were still good- had another week’s worth of life in them, at least- and he’d hate for them to go to waste. An idea coming to him at last, he went looking for an empty vase, and, after finding one, spent the next ten minutes arranging the cut flowers in it in a way that was pleasing to the eye. Then he stuck his “Out for lunch” sign in the front window of his shop, locked up, and slipped out the back entrance with vase in hand.

Crossing the short distance between his shop and Dizzy Spell, he tapped against the window with the mouth of the vase, since his hands were full. Through the window, he saw Wanda, who was seated behind her reception desk, sketching, jerk her head upright, obviously startled. When she spotted him, he held up the vase in his hands to indicate what had brought him over. 

“Sam,” Wanda said a moment later, opening the door. “What brings you by?” 

“I wanted to bring you guys this,” Sam replied, holding up the vase in answer. “Think of it as a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ gift.” One corner of Wanda’s mouth twitched upward in a smile, and she beckoned him inside. 

“Just set it there,” she told him once they were through the door, indicating the reception desk she’d been sitting behind earlier. Sam did as she said, but couldn’t resist spending a few minutes turning it this way and that, making sure it sat on top of the desk just so. Behind him, Wanda chuckled at his antics, her laugh just as musical as her voice.

“Why did you spend so much time with that?” she asked. 

“My work is all about the aesthetic,” Sam explained, turning to face her. “It’s all about what’s most pleasing to the eye. I spent ten minutes arranging those flowers, and I wanted to make sure that they’re placed so that a viewer can see the arrangement at its full effect.” 

“Fair enough,” Wanda replied, her eyes still sparking with humor. She’d dressed more plainly today, forgoing the leathers in favor of jeans, a mint green tank top, and black ankle boots, and, because of her sleeveless top, Sam could see that she had a tattoo on her left shoulder, of a skull surrounded by dozens of colorful flowers. He couldn’t help but admire the artistry of it, the brilliant colors of the flowers, the delicate linework of their petals, the deep, intense black of the skull’s eye sockets and nasal cavity. Wanda, noticing him staring, shifted her stance slightly so that her left shoulder was out of his view. Of course, that put the tattoos on her chest and arms  _ in _ view, but now Sam knew better than to stare. He sensed that Wanda wasn’t ashamed of her tattoos- far from it, in fact- but that she also didn’t necessarily want to have them scrutinized, and especially not by someone who was still pretty much a stranger. 

“Did you want to stick around or something?” Wanda asked, interrupting Sam’s musings.

“For a little bit, yeah,” he said. “I’m technically on my lunch break right now, but I try not to be away for longer than an hour.”

“Speaking of,” Wanda said, glancing toward the back of the shop, where the droning buzz of a tattoo needle could faintly be heard coming from one of the rooms back there, “do you know of a good place to eat around here? Pietro’s with a client right now, but I’m pretty sure if I’m going to step away for a bit I don’t need to close up so long as he’s still physically in the building.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied. “There’s a great sandwich shop not too far from here. Follow me.” He led her out the door and up the street a few blocks to the sandwich shop in question. He was greeted warmly and enthusiastically when he entered, as he was a regular customer of theirs, and he quickly introduced Wanda, explaining that she was new to the neighborhood, as it were, having just opened her tattoo parlor in the previously empty store next door to his shop the day before. To that end, the shop owner declared that Wanda’s food was on the house, insisting on it despite her protests. 

“You all need to stop giving me ‘welcome to the neighborhood gifts,’” Wanda said during the walk back to Dizzy Spell. “Especially since you didn’t give any to Pietro.”

“Well, to be fair, mine was meant for both of you,” Sam replied.

“And it makes me feel guilty,” Wanda went on, “because I have nothing to give in return.”

“None of us are expecting anything in return,” Sam reassured her. “That’s just how we are- we’re pretty much all one big family around here.” By this time, they had arrived back at Dizzy Spell.

“Well, that certainly is a pleasant thought,” Wanda said before they parted ways. “My whole life, I’ve never really fit in anywhere except with my brother, and I doubt that will change anytime soon, but still. It’s nice to think about.” Sam frowned, but, mindful of the newness of their connection, kept his disquiet thoughts to himself. All the same, as he returned to his shop and his work and his customers, he couldn’t help but think that something was about to change. He only wished he knew what.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite Sam’s hopes, he and Wanda didn’t see much of each other the next day, as they both found themselves swamped, he with orders and she with clients. In the brief conversation they managed to snatch during lunch, Sam learned that Wanda hadn’t been expecting to have such a high volume of customers in this part of town, as it hadn’t seemed, at first glance, to be the type of area that would be frequented by people looking to get tattooed, and she was considering adding another tattoo artist or two to her crew in order to more effectively address the demand. Sam had wished her luck with that endeavour, and that was the last they spoke to each other that day.

The following day was much the same. The number of orders and arrangements Sam had waiting to be done seemed unchanged, and he began to ponder the wisdom of taking a page out of Wanda’s book and hiring on some additional staff, at the very least to help him get out from under his backlog. The only problem with that idea was that it was highly likely that he’d have to train any new hires, adding another demand on his time that he couldn’t afford with how busy he was. In the end, he decided that he was perfectly capable of managing on his own, after a brief adjustment period, of course. Now that it was on his mind, however, he resolved to ask Wanda how her search for help was going the next time he had a chance to talk to her.

That opportunity didn’t come until lunchtime the next day. Sam put up his “out to lunch” sign and stopped next door to find that Wanda had also put up her sign. He didn’t know if that was by coincidence or design, but he wasn’t going to question it. He’d come to consider Wanda a friend, and he’d take any opportunity to catch up with her that presented itself in their increasingly busy schedules.

Rapping lightly on the door with his knuckles, Sam waited patiently for Wanda to come and let him inside. He entered Dizzy Spell to find a woman dressed from head to foot in black, from her boots to her leather biker jacket, her blonde-streaked red hair tied back in a French braid, leaning casually against the reception desk. 

“What brings you by?” Wanda asked.

“I was coming to see how your search for staff members is going,” Sam replied, “but it looks like I have my answer.” He nodded toward the woman in black.

“Oh, yeah,” Wanda said, as if suddenly remembering something. “Sam, this is Natasha Romanoff. Natasha, this is Sam Wilson. He owns and operates the flower shop next door.” Natasha nodded in greeting.

“So, were you planning on actually having lunch at any point?” Sam asked. “Or were you just using this time to get to know Natasha?”

“The second thing,” Wanda replied. “But-” she paused for a moment, clearly thinking it over- “I could eat.”

“So, why don’t we all go together?” Sam suggested. “Kill two birds with one stone.” Wanda and Natasha both nodded in agreement, and off they all went.

Later that day, long after he had returned to work, Sam found himself thinking about that lunch. Natasha had proven to be interesting company as well as a talented artist- she’d shown him her portfolio during the meal- and Wanda had mentioned that was thinking of still adding one more artist to her staff. She’d also entertained the idea of hiring a receptionist or front desk person as well. Sam had kept his thoughts on those matters to himself at the time, thinking that Wanda didn’t really need or want his opinion, but he was silently wishing her luck with the first thing, as he suspected that it would take longer to find another artist who was a good fit for the shop than it had taken to find Natasha, and hoping that she would in fact decide to go through with the second thing, mostly for selfish reasons- it would leave her with one less thing she had to do every day, which would mean she would be less busy, which in turn would mean that they’d see more of each other during the day, and maybe have an actual conversation that wasn’t constrained to the hour or so they managed to snatch for lunch if they were lucky. For all that Sam considered Wanda a friend- which he did- he was aware that they really didn’t know each other very well, and he was willing and eager to do whatever he could to change that. So, he decided, if Wanda were to ask him his opinion on whether or not she should hire some kind of receptionist or front desk person, he knew what his answer would be.

A week passed, and Sam and Wanda still didn’t see much of each other, though they adjusted their routines so as to make a habit of having lunch together every day rather than just on the rare occasions when circumstances lined up that way on their own. As this pattern continued, Sam eventually met the second and final artist that Wanda had added to her staff- Daisy Johnson, a comparatively young artist fresh out of her apprenticeship who also happened to be dating one of the mechanics at the auto shop in another section of downtown not far from where they were. He didn’t interact with her much- she had chosen, for whatever reason, to attach herself to Natasha’s side and so rarely spoke to anyone besides her, Wanda, and her clients- but she seemed like a good fit for the shop. He couldn’t help but admire Wanda’s apparent ability to find exactly the right kind of people to join her business. 

As for his own business, it continued to boom, but once he’d allowed himself an adjustment period, Sam found that he was easily able to handle the influx of new customers. All in all, the increase in business kept him busy and kept his life interesting, and for that, he was grateful. And, all things considered, he hoped things would keep on the way they were for a very long time. He hated to imagine how dull and boring his life would become if it went back to the way it had been before Wanda Maximoff had walked into it.


	4. Chapter 4

“Sam?” he heard Wanda call out from the front of the shop. They had long since reached the point in their friendship where they each had a key to the other’s store, to make after and between hours visits easier to accomplish.

“Back here,” Sam called in reply, his attention not leaving the flower arrangement he was busy working on. He heard the heavy clomp of Wanda’s boots on the floor, and a moment later she appeared in his peripheral vision, peering around the edge of the open door to his back room.

“What are you up to?” she asked. In response, Sam gestured toward the arrangement in front of him.

“That’s a lot of white,” Wanda remarked, tilting her head to one side to take in the entirety of the enormous bunch of white lilies and roses that Sam was busy moving into position. “Wedding arrangement?” 

“Yeah,” Sam replied, his hands stilling for a moment in surprise at the astuteness of the question. “How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess,” Wanda said with a shrug. “Brides wear white, so the connection just sort of… made sense, I guess.”

“Hmmm,” Sam murmured absentmindedly in reply, his focus shifting back to his work. 

“What brings you by so early?” he asked after a moment, suddenly remembering his manners.

“Inspiration,” Wanda replied. “Floral pieces are extremely popular these days, and I want to be prepared with some designs for my clients to select from if a floral piece is what they’re after. Do you mind if I wander around your front room for a bit and sketch whatever catches my eye?”

“Not at all,” Sam said. Gesturing the door, he added, “Be my guest.” A moment later, he heard Wanda’s footsteps retreat to the room in question, the sound of her boot heels striking the floor obtrusive and impossible to miss. After a while, Sam began to discern a pattern to it- the sound of Wanda’s footsteps would start, then stop for a minute or two, then start up again, growing louder or fainter as she moved closer to and farther away from the door to the back room. Intrigued, he set aside his work and went to the door to watch Wanda at hers. Immediately, he saw the reason for the rhythm of her footsteps- she was moving from one table full of potted flowers to the next, her sketchbook propped against the crook of her left arm, sketching the flowers in the pots for a minute or two before moving on. It was oddly hypnotic to watch.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Sam asked after a few more minutes of watching Wanda work. She jerked to a halt, startled, and turned toward the door. 

“Not really,” she admitted, a disappointed tone in her voice. “I mean, I got a lot of sketches, but I think I’m going to need a lot more before they’ll start to resolve themselves into concrete designs.

“Well then, by all means,” Sam replied, gesturing toward the tables full of flowers, “keep sketching. You don’t need to stop on my account.” Wanda seemed to think it over for a moment, before pulling her phone out of her back pocket to check the time.

“Not today,” she said with a shake of her head, slipping her phone back into her pocket. “Your business hours start soon, and I wouldn’t want to be in your way.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Sam insisted.

“And anyway,” Wanda continued on as if he hadn’t spoken, “I have my own business to run. I’ll be back tomorrow though. I promise.”

“I look forward to it,” Sam replied with a smile, and watched her walk out the front door and toward Dizzy Spell until she passed out of sight of his windows. 


	5. Chapter 5

Sam was in the middle of updating his books when the door opened and Wanda walked in.They exchanged hellos, then went right to work, Wanda with her sketches, Sam back to his bookkeeping. Secretly, he was glad that Wanda had kept her promise to return. Deep down, he hadn’t been sure if she would. 

Though he tried to focus on his work, Sam found himself watching Wanda at her sketching time and time again, her movement about the room almost hypnotic in its rhythm. He was almost sorry when it came time to open up the shop for the day, because, assuming things followed the same pattern they had the previous day, it meant that Wanda would leave. However, much to his surprise, when Wanda checked the time and saw that business hours were about to start, she headed, not for the front door, but for the door to his back room.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Sorry,” Wanda said, stopping in her tracks and turning to face him. “Did you not want me back there?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Sam replied hastily, waving off her concern. “It’s just… don’t you have to go run your shop?”

“Well, you see,” Wanda said. She’d taken a few more steps forward and now had one hand on the door handle, “between yesterday and today, I remembered that it’s not just me running things anymore-”

“Was it just you before?” Sam interjected, forgetting himself and his manners for a moment. Wanda nodded.

“Pietro’s never been one for the actual  _ business _ part of running a business, so he kind of left the day to day of it to me,” she said. “But anyway, it’s not just me running things anymore. I have Natasha and Daisy now, and Pietro and the two of them are more than capable of managing without me for a day.” Sam hoped it would actually turn out to be more than just one, but he decided not to mention that to Wanda. Instead, he said, “Alright. Suit yourself.” and watched her disappear into the back room.

From that point on, Sam would duck into the back room whenever he had a spare moment to see how Wanda was doing. Every time he did, she would make a point of hastily shutting her sketchbook or otherwise obscuring her sketches from his view. But she would smile gently each time she did it, as if to let him know that she didn’t mean anything personal about it. Perhaps she was sensitive about her unfinished art. Sam couldn’t say for sure, and didn’t think it was his place to ask. He simply let it be.

When lunchtime rolled around, Sam locked up, trusting that Wanda would be okay in the shop by herself for a little while, and went to go get them both food. He returned to find Wanda exactly where he’d left her- sitting at his work table in the back room, surrounded by pots of flowers she’d brought back from the front. He wasn’t sure why that surprised him. She’d been very clear about her intention to stick around for the whole day, so it wasn’t as if he’d expected her to go anywhere. 

Pausing for a moment to get a better grip on the takeout containers he was carrying, Sam rapped gently on the doorframe to get Wanda’s attention. She glanced up at the sound and smiled when she saw him.

“Thanks,” she said softly when he handed her her food, setting aside her sketchbook and pushing flower pots out of the way to make room for it.

“Don’t mention it,” Sam replied. “I was already getting lunch for myself, and I thought the least I could do was get you some too.” Wanda nodded, smiled once more, and then, once Sam had located an extra chair, the two of them enjoyed their lunch in pleasant, companionable silence. 

When his lunch break was over, Sam found himself feeling almost- not quite, but almost- reluctant resume his normal business hours. He’d come to enjoy and cherish any time spent with Wanda, and it saddened him that that time was drawing to a close for today.

“Go,” Wanda said, as if sensing his reluctance. “I’ll be fine. Besides, your customers need you.” Her words where what Sam needed to get him out of his funk, and, with a nod, he moved to the front of the shop, took down his “out to lunch” sign, and prepared himself for the arrival of more customers. 

At the end of the day, Wanda emerged from the back room, blinking owlishly as her eyes adjusted to the difference in illumination between it and the front room. 

“Hey,” Sam said from where he was busy locking up for the night. “Let me just finish up here, and then I’ll walk you over to Dizzy Spell.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Wanda replied, shaking her head.

“Please, I insist,” Sam said. “It’ll only take a minute of my time, and then I’ll be headed home.”

“Alright,” Wanda agreed, though she seemed reluctant, as if she thought the gesture may not have been as kindly meant as it appeared. Sam wondered at that, but didn’t comment on it.

Once he finished locking up, he led Wanda out the back door of the shop, double checking to make sure he had all his belongings before locking that up behind him as well. After reaching Dizzy Spell a minute later, Sam and Wanda parted ways, and Sam headed for home feeling excited to see what tomorrow would bring.


	6. Chapter 6

“I’ve only got a few hours,” Wanda announced as she walked into the shop with sketchbook in hand, after the start of business hours this time. “I have a crazy amount of tattoo appointments today, and this was the only time to myself I’ll be able to fit in today.” Sam nodded to indicate that he’d heard her, but otherwise didn’t divert his attention away from the customer he’d been discussing different options for bouquets with when Wanda had walked in. The customer in question shot him a questioning glance, but otherwise didn’t ask about Wanda or inquire as to why one of the tattoo artists from next door had just walked into his shop like such a thing was a regular thing- which, at least for the last couple of days, it had been, if only with Wanda and not any of the other artists from Dizzy Spell. 

“Did you get what you needed?” Sam asked when Wanda emerged from the back room a few hours later, as she’d said.

“Not quite,” she replied, “but a few more days of sketching and I think I’ll have something.” Sam, who’d been hoping for such an answer, because it meant Wanda would be around more, brightened at that.

“Alright,” he said, careful not to betray his feelings on the matter. As Wanda headed for the door, he called after her “Good luck!” referring to the long day of tattoo appointments she’d told him she had ahead of her. She waved a hand over her head in his direction in response, and a moment later she had disappeared from his view.

Not long after Wanda’s departure, the customer he’d been talking with when she’d arrived returned to pick up the bouquet he’d arranged for Sam to make for him- a small one consisting of blooms in his husband’s favorite colors. The latter had had a rough day at work, and the former had wanted to do something to cheer him up. The task of making that bouquet had occupied Sam’s attention for quite a while, and the story that went with it had made him smile. He loved hearing stories like that from his customers, the little snippets and snapshots of their lives they would give him when they explained what they needed from him and why. It was hands down his favorite part of the job.

At lunchtime, Wanda texted him to let him know that she was too busy to make it today, something he’d expected but was nonetheless disappointed by, and he ate lunch alone for the first time in the month- almost two, in fact, now that he thought about it- since Dizzy Spell had opened up next door. Sam had never considered himself someone who relied on the company of others to fuel his happiness, but it still cast a pall over his thoughts that lasted through the rest of the day, however much he tried to shake it off or otherwise dispel it by distracting himself with work. He managed not to let it affect his treatment of his customers or prevent him from getting his work done, but it was a very near thing.

Sam finally caught up with Wanda at the end of the day, when they were both heading for home. She was preceded through Dizzy Spell’s doors by Natasha, then Daisy, and then finally Pietro, who went to wait for her by a small silver car parked up the curb a ways. Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to Sam until this exact moment that Wanda and her twin brother lived together. As for Wanda, Sam had to admit she looked a bit disheveled, her clothes rumpled and her hair in disarray. Considering the day she’d apparently just had, however, he couldn’t exactly fault her for that.

“Alright there, Wanda?” he asked. She gasped, startled, since she’d been occupied with locking up and hadn’t noticed him standing there.

“I’m fine,” she said when she’d gotten her breath back. “Better now that I’m headed home.”

“That’s understandable,” Sam replied with a chuckle. “Well, see you tomorrow.” 

“See you,” Wanda said, heading for where Pietro was waiting for her. Sam watched their silver car drive away until it disappeared around a bend in the road before he too headed for home.


	7. Chapter 7

With the way things had been going lately, Sam was no longer surprised when Wanda came walking through his door with sketchbook in hand. In fact, he’d come to expect it. The only thing was, he’d also started to wonder if maybe she was just using sketching as an excuse to stop by every day, since surely she must have collected enough sketches to arrange into designs by now. If it  _ was _ an excuse, however, he wasn’t going to call her on it, since, in all honesty, he liked having her around and wanted her to be so as much as possible.

“Have you had any luck translating all those sketches of yours into coherent designs?” Sam asked Wanda during lunch, as a way of making conversation.

“A little,” Wanda replied. After a pause, she added, “Actually, I probably have more than enough sketches. I just… like coming here to sketch. It’s always so peaceful.”

“That’s by design,” Sam said. “After the chaos I went through to get to this point, all I need in my life from now on is peace.”

“You’ve never talked about what you did before this,” Wanda remarked, voice soft.

“It’s not something I like to talk about,” Sam replied bluntly. Remembering how he’d once heard it said that Sokovia was nowhere special but was on the way to everywhere special- meaning its whole history was war-torn and chaotic- he added, “I’m sure you can understand that.”

“I can,” Wanda agreed, nodding. “And I promise I won’t pry.”

“Thank you,” Sam replied. After that, neither of them spoke for the rest of their meal. 

“By the way,” Sam told Wanda as she was heading toward the door, back to her own shop, “you’re welcome here anytime.” Wanda smiled, nodded, and then she was gone.

Over the next several days, Wanda was in and out of Sam’s shop constantly, at whatever odd times her own work permitted. She’d dropped the pretense of being there to sketch flowers, not that she knew that she didn’t need it, and instead sketched whatever was in her mind at the time, or else worked on whatever other business related things she needed peace and quiet to do.

As for Sam, he began to watch his door, waiting, not just for customers, but for Wanda, and on the days when her schedule prohibited her from stopping by, he found his mood just as lowered by her absence as it was always lifted by her presence. He found that he didn’t want to think too hard about what that might mean. Better to ignore it for now and let the answers come to him at a less hectic time. 

Over the following weeks, Wanda continued to drop by several times each day, or else to spend the whole day hiding out in the back room, and the longer this went on, the more Sam began to accept it as their new normal. He didn’t much mind it, but he wondered how the rest of Dizzy Spell’s staff felt about Wanda spending so much time in his shop. Then, as quickly as he’d thought to wonder about it, he decided that he didn’t care.

Things continued this way, Sam and Wanda both settling in to what had become their new normal, until the day something happened that changed everything. It was one of the days that Wanda had decided to spend the whole duration of in the back room sketching. Sam peeked his head in as he passed by at one point during the day and found it seemingly empty.

“Wanda?” he called out. At first, there was no answer. Then he heard a faint whimpering sound coming from the direction of the supply closet in the back of the room. Sam remembered that the latch on the closet door was janky and had a tendency to get stuck in the locked position if the door wasn’t closed just exactly right, and he bolted to the back of the room as fast as his legs would carry him. He jiggled the handle on the closet door furiously, until he was finally rewarded with the faint  _ click _ of the latch disengaging, then yanked the door open. Light flooded into the supply closet, revealing Wanda scrunched up into a ball on the floor, mid panic attack.

“Hey,” Sam murmured soothingly, sitting down on the floor beside her and wrapping her in his arms. “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re okay.” He continued like that, holding her and murmuring reassurances, until at last she calmed.

“I’m okay,” she said. “I’m okay.” Sam pulled away from Wanda enough to look her in the eyes and asked “What happened?”

“I was sitting over there sketching,” Wanda replied, pointing to where her sketchbook was still sitting open on the table, “and I noticed that I’d gotten eraser shreds all over the floor. So I went to get a broom out of the closet to sweep them out, and somehow the door closed behind me and I got trapped inside.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said softly. “I should have warned you that the latch on the closet door is janky and has a tendency to get stuck locked if you don’t know how to close it just exactly right.”

“There’s no need for you to be sorry,” Wanda replied in an equally quiet voice. “You couldn’t possibly have known that I was going to need to get something out of that closet.”

“I should have warned you regardless,” Sam insisted. “Just in case. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Don’t be,” Wanda said, her voice turning steely. Sam recognized that as a defense mechanism- close yourself off from your trauma, harden yourself against its lingering effects, and hope that that makes it easier to deal with. “I’m fine now.”

“I never knew you were claustrophobic,” Sam said after a long silence. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Wanda replied. 

“Well, let’s work on changing that, shall we?” Sam asked. Wanda nodded, and with that gesture put them on the cusp of something, though, if he’d been asked, Sam wasn’t sure he could have said what.


	8. Chapter 8

Sam woke up one morning, about a week after the incident with the supply closet, feeling gloomy and just in a bad mood overall. He wasn’t sure why at first, until he happened to glance at a calender and saw why- today was the anniversary of Riley’s death. He’d marked it down on the calendar like always, and normally he kept much better track of when it was drawing near, but with everything that had been going on in his life lately, it had completely slipped his mind. Apparently, it hadn’t escaped the notice of his subconscious, however, since his current dark mood indicated that some small part of him had been aware of the looming arrival of this particular date, even if he hadn’t been consciously aware of it himself. However, he decided that, aside from the customary time he took to reflect on Riley’s life and death on this date every year, he wasn’t going to let his gloomy feelings prevent him from doing his job.

But he must not have done as good of a job hiding his feelings as he’d thought, because several times throughout the day he had customers ask him what was wrong, to which he responded by explaining that it was the anniversary of the death of a close friend, and left it at that. Thankfully, they all seemed to understand that he didn’t want to go into it and didn’t pry any further. Even Wanda noticed that he wasn’t himself, a fact that he didn’t learn until later that day.

“Are you alright?” she asked him during lunch. “You don’t seem like yourself.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “It’s just… I lost someone on this day, almost two years ago now.”

“Who?” Wanda asked gently. Sam eyed her for a moment. If it had been anyone else asking, he would have waved off or otherwise deflected the question, but since it was her, he found himself opening up.

“My wingman, Riley,” he said. He saw Wanda’s eyes widen in surprise at the new information and realized only then that he’d never mentioned his time serving in the air force to her. “We were flying a night mission. Standard PJ, rescue op. Nothing we hadn’t done a thousand times before, until an RPG knocked Riley’s dumb ass out of the sky.” He paused for a moment to get his emotions back in check, then continued, “There was nothing I could do. It was like I was up there just to watch.” He lowered his gaze from Wanda’s, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. In that same instant, he felt her take his hand in hers.

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” she said quietly. “I’ve lost people too, as I’m sure you’ve figured out by now, but I can’t imagine what it must have been like to watch someone you care about die.” Here, she paused, like there was something else she was mustering up the words and the courage to say. Sam lifted his eyes to hers once more, to let her know that, whatever it was she was about to say, she had his full attention.

“When Pietro and I were ten years old,” Wanda said at last, “The apartment building we lived in was hit in a shelling. I remember the kitchen floor just dropping away, my parents being there one moment and gone the next, so quickly that I didn’t really have time to react or even really process what was happening at all. So I can’t imagine what it would have been like to have actually witnessed the moment of their death.” She was silent after that, and neither of them spoke for a long time.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Sam finally said. “And at such a young age. It must have been terrible.”

“There’s more,” Wanda replied. “It has to do with what happened last week, if you’d like to hear it.” Sam wasn’t sure that he did, but he sensed that Wanda needed to talk about it nonetheless, that now that the floodgates to her trauma had been opened she needed to share it with someone, so he nodded.

“After that first shell hit,” Wanda said, “Pietro and I took shelter under our bed. Then a second shell hit, but it didn’t go off. It just sat there, an inch from our faces. And every time the rubble shifted, I thought, ‘This is it. This is what finally sets it off.’ Until the moment rescue workers pulled Pietro and I out of what was left of that building, I was sure we’d never see the light of day again.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sam said after a few minutes of silence, aware that he was repeating himself but not caring. “That must have been terrible.”

“It was,” Wanda agreed, nodding, her voice hoarse and choked with tears. Sam wanted to hold her, to comfort her somehow, but he wasn’t sure if he should even try. There were boundaries very clearly laid between them, and he didn’t want to overstep them.

“I have to go,” Wanda said abruptly, glancing at the time on her phone. On her way out the door, she paused, turned back to Sam, and said, “You know… a lot of people get tattoos in memory of loved ones they’ve lost. If you were to decide to do that for Riley, I would be honored to be the artist who did that tattoo for you.” With that, she left, leaving Sam to ponder those words.

Some time later, when he had had enough time to himself to recognize how today’s interaction with Wanda had left him feeling raw and fragile, like his soul had been scrubbed clean, he could come to only one conclusion- he had fallen for her. 


	9. Chapter 9

Having come to the conclusion he had, but understanding that confronting it would change his relationship with Wanda forever, which he wasn’t sure he wanted to happen yet, Sam decided to handle it by focusing his attention on other, less serious matters. The first item on that mental to-do list was deciding for sure whether he wanted to take the suggestion Wanda had given him the day before about getting a memorial tattoo for Riley. After debating it for a few days, he decided that he would. After all, he already carried Riley with him every day, in running this flower shop, which they’d always talked about doing together when their tour was up, and in his work at the VA, counseling countless veterans just like him, in the hopes that maybe they’d have an easier time with the transition back to civilian life and dealing with the lingering traumas that their time in the service had left them with than he’d had because he’d been there to help them. It felt only right that he should carry a permanent, tangible, visible reminder of how he carried his wingman in his heart and in his thoughts.

With that decision made, he now had to tackle the issue of what he wanted the tattoo to actually look like. He immediately discarded the idea of using their unit insignia. The Fifty-Eighth Rescue Squadron may have brought Riley into his life, but it had also ultimately taken him away from him. Having its insignia permanently inked into his skin would not honor Riley’s memory in the way it deserved. 

With that being said, however, he was back to having no ideas. He looked around the shop, at a loss, when suddenly it struck him- flowers. There were plenty of flowers that were used to signify remembrance of a lost loved one. Considering that he spent all day working with and surrounded by flowers of all types, that idea really should have occurred to him sooner. Hunting down some scratch paper, he quickly sketched out the design that had just popped into his head as well as he could manage to render it with his limited drawing skills. That done, he stashed the paper away in his pocket, intending to get Wanda’s input on the design at some point during lunch.

“So I was thinking about what you said,” he said when that time came around, “and I’ve decided to take your suggestion.”

“It was more of an ‘if you decide to do this’ type of thing than an actual suggestion,” Wanda replied, “but alright. What of it?”

“Well, I sketched out the design for it,” Sam replied, pulling the paper that held the sketch in question out of his pocket, “and I wanted to get your input.” Wanda nodded, as if to say  _ Go on _ , and Sam set the paper on the counter in front of them, smoothing it out so that Wanda could get a good look at it.

“Hmmm,” she said thoughtfully, studying it. After a few minutes, she pulled her sketchbook from her bag and began to draw, her hand making smooth, sweeping motions across the page.

“Something like this?” she asked, turning her sketchbook around for Sam to see. There, rendered in her expert hand, was the image he had had in his mind when he’d drawn his own, much rougher sketch- Riley in silhouette, mid-flight, lines of forget-me-nots and red carnation petals coming off the tips of his wings, the whole thing angled so that he appeared to soar across the page.

“That’s perfect,” he said, his voice going hoarse with emotion.

“That’s good to hear,” Wanda replied. “Were you planning on getting it done here?”

“Of course,” Sam said. “You’re the only person I trust to do this.” Wanda looked down at her feet, a blush coloring her cheeks pink.

“In that case…” she said, trailing off as she ducked down behind the reception desk. After rummaging through something back there, out of sight, for a few minutes, she straightened back up, holding an appointment book in her hands.

“Let’s see,” she said, flipping through it. “Looks like I can pencil you in for Thursday afternoon next week. Does that work for you?”

“It should,” Sam replied, going over his schedule in his mind and confirming that he had nothing going on that day that would conflict. “But if anything comes up, I’ll call and reschedule.”

“Sounds good,” Wanda said. Shutting her appointment book with a snap, she ducked back behind the reception desk and put it back wherever it was she had gotten it from. Straightening up once more, she added, “I’ll see you then.”

“See you then,” Sam confirmed, and headed back to his own shop, the time having come for him to get back to his work.


	10. Chapter 10

Sam took a deep, slow, steadying breath, trying to calm himself down. There was a tense, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or excitement, but he wished it would go away or at least lessen somewhat. It was making it hard for him to focus on his work.

Finally, it came close to being time for him to head over to Dizzy Spell. He wrapped things up with his last customers, then went about the process of closing up shop for the day. Seeing as he had no way of knowing how long this would take, he’d planned to take the rest of the day off, just to be safe.

When it was finally time for him to head over, he arrived to find that Wanda was still in with another client. He settled in to wait, occasionally making small talk with Pietro, who was manning the reception desk but otherwise waiting in silence, leaning against the reception desk and keeping a watchful eye on the back rooms, anticipating the moment when Wanda and her client would emerge from one of them.

They finally did about two hours later, but Sam’s wait wasn’t quite over, because Wanda spent several minutes going over the finer points of tattoo aftercare with her client before sending them on their way. 

“Are you ready?” she asked, turning to Sam at last.

“As I’ll ever be,” Sam replied. “Although I suppose it’s too late to back out now, isn’t it?”

“Definitely,” Wanda agreed with a laugh. “Especially since you paid up front.” Gesturing that way with a jerk of her head, she led Sam toward the back of the shop and into one of the rooms that wasn’t occupied by the rest of Dizzy Spell’s staff- minus Pietro, of course- and their clients.

“We never talked about placement,” Wanda said, as if it had just occurred to her. “Where did you want your tattoo?”

“My shoulder blade,” Sam replied without hesitation, removing his shirt to give Wanda access to the area in question. “The left one.”

“Alright,” Wanda replied, and after a few minutes spent getting her materials together, set to work. Sam had had no frame of reference for what getting a tattoo would feel like, how much it would hurt, and so he flinched at the pain of the needle entering his skin that first time, but he soon adjusted to it. It hurt, sure, but he had borne much worse pain than this and made it through alright. This was nothing he couldn’t handle.

Sam soon lost track of time, but by the time it was easier, something about the experience had made him finally decided that he was ready to take the risk of confessing his feelings for Wanda and having their whole relationship change. But his courage and his words failed him at first, until Wanda was in the middle of applying ointment to his new tattoo and covering it with a bandage. Her touch was exceedingly gentle, probably only because she was trying to avoid irritating the skin on his shoulder blade since it was sensitive as a result of being freshly tattooed, but it sparked something in him nonetheless.

“Wanda?” he asked as he was putting his shirt back on, mustering up his courage.

“Yeah?” Wanda replied distractedly, in the middle of cleaning up.

“What’s your policy on dating clients?” Sam asked. Wanda stiffened in surprise at the question for a moment, but then answered, “I don’t have one. Why?”

“Because I wanted to ask you something that relates,” Sam replied.

“Which is?” Wanda asked, though with a tone in her voice that implied she already suspected what the answer would be.

“Would you like to go out on a date?” Sam asked, answering her question with another. After a moment, he clarified “With me?” Then he waited with bated breath while Wanda thought it over. Uncounted minutes went by in silence, then she smiled a small, shy smile, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

“I’d love to,” she said.

**Author's Note:**

> Fanmix by butterflyslinky:
> 
> [Mix](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0KsRxn0cuFPH0WrqSTSx9H)
> 
> [Lyrics](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1AhUjoJBd2k1OByQqOleZ_tUQR2XxKNGS61FNPmKzlUw/edit?usp=sharing)


End file.
